Villains do wear black... (Dragonetti)

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Father Alessandro Dragonetti woke up in a bed, deep under the city of London. Above him, the sinful walked free and happy, unaware that they were aiding to usher in the age of the Antichrist. Dragonetti had been apprehended by one of the Antichrist's spawn, though he had managed to orchestrate matters from behind his worldly prison. And now his brothers, his comrades had seen fit to break him out and have him return to their number. Faking a death with the use of some rather miraculous drugs, rising from the dead...it was all poetic. Biblical. And now Dragonetti was going to see that the world was rid of evil and sin, and he would bring in the Power of the Church once again. Where Bishop Holden had failed, he would not. Dragonetti would not put his trust in a demon, who's heart was as mutable as the sea. He would only have faith in his God, his brothers, and himself.

Alessandro did have need, however, to recover from his self-imposed drugging first. His arms went out and immediately he was supported on both sides by people he had never met before, though they were Templar Brethren despite that. "My brothers," Dragonetti said weakly, offering them a smile for the service they had done him. "Thank you. You have served your Lord well."

"Father Dragonetti, Bishop Ramsey is requesting your presence in three hours."

Dragonetti nodded. Right to it. Good. "I will need to take a meal before then," he informed them. "And a change of clothes." He was still wearing his prison uniform. "I think I can stand now, thank you."

"Your robes are on the table, Father. We will leave you. A meal will be provided in the great hall. We can wait outside to escort you if you would prefer?"

"Yes, please. I would hate to get lost so soon after being found." Dragonetti made the sign of the cross and watched as they made it back and exited his room.

A small mirror was set up in the room. It was not for vanity, which was a sin, but in order for a Templar to make sure no sign of himself was showing when leaving to do God's work with the heretics. Dragonetti stared at his reflection and he sighed. "God, I am your instrument. You have humbled me, and I accept your punishment. I will earn my place at your side again, Father."

Dragonetti stepped over to the small table and he picked up the robes. He hadn't worn them in far too long and pulling them over his head now felt like coming home. He turned to look at himself in the mirror again, and he recognised the reflection looking back at him.

"Hallelujah," Dragonetti exclaimed with a smile. And then he turned and left his cell behind, despite the physical weakness which ailed him. God's work did not account for pains and suffering. There was much to be done.